#elstan

The bar is too crowded, the music is too loud, and it has an undercurrent smell of fake cheese. Like the kind they'd serve over nachos at The Palace. Back when Will was a kid and videogames were more important than dates.

Now he’s twenty years old, crammed into a booth that has a couple of mysterious stains, and sipping lukewarm beer out of sight of the bartender. They’re probably too busy to notice- or to even care, but he’s always been a little on edge when it comes to breaking the rules. 

During the afternoon he spent with Bill at The Bean he was really hoping it would end with Bill asking him out. Luck was on his side; for once. 

It’s just that he wasn’t exactly picturing their first date with all of their friends in attendance. Maybe he was a little presumptuous to assume that their first date would be a private affair. 

Bill invited him to Richie’s open mic, implying that his friends would be there. It left him feeling a little…put out because maybe Bill only wanted to be his friend. But then Bill told him they could sneak off afterward to go do their own thing, that he had an idea. He followed it up with a wink, one that looked ridiculous yet charming in a weird way that only Bill could pull off. 

But things are never simple in Will’s life and he later learned that Richie also invited Mike. Apparently, while they were scheming in his and Bill’s love life. What was surprising was that Mike was going - and was bringing El; at Richie’s instance. 

He had a lot of questions but he’s starting to see the answers. Richie isn’t on stage yet, if you could even call that a stage, it’s more like a literal soap box set up by the bar. Some other act is on right now, trying desperately to speak over the music. Mike, El, and Stanley are standing around a table by the stage. 

He doesn’t have an opinion on Stanley yet, this is the first night they’ve ever formally spoken but it’s obvious why Richie insisted they bring El. The man with the chocolate neat curls keeps biting back at the poor comedian, getting a rise out of El every time he does. When El laughs, her eyes fleetingly closing, Stan is smiling at her like he’s made a great accomplishment. He’s only poking fun at the comedian to make El laugh. Will wonders if El has noticed…probably not. She never notices when someone’s interested in her.

Along with Stanley and Richie, he’s met Bill’s other four friends. Ben and Beverly, a couple, Eddie- Bill’s first friend as he introduced himself as, and their own Mike. Their Mike is much sweeter than Will’s. 

Those four are at the bar. They were sitting in the booth with them but when Bill came back with his and Will’s beers, they each started making excuses to get up. None of them came back and they’re not even trying to hide the fact they’re hanging at the bar. They left him and Bill alone on purpose. 

In the booth Bill shifts in his seat next to him, his jeans making that awkward sound when they rub against the plastic of the seat. He looks vaguely uncomfortable and while Will has been sipping on his drink Bill has almost finished his. 

Bill is rubbing at the disintegrating label of his beer bottle, an awkward silence filling the void between them. They’ve already run through all the safe questions, ‘did you find this bar okay?’, ‘how were classes yesterday?’, ‘do you like your drink?’.

It’s such a tonal shift from their conversation at The Bean. Bill had had more…confidence if Will had to pin it down to something. They talked about Bill’s writings- he’s a horror writer, and Will had shown him some of his paintings. They had connected so easily then and he doesn’t understand why now is so different. The whole thing has him feeling a little anxious. 

Bill swishes his bottle, running empty, “Guess it's time for another,” he says as he stands. He nods towards Will’s bottle, “Do you need another one?”

Will shakes his head and just like that he’s alone. He deflates in his seat when Bill is out of sight, letting his head thud against the back of the booth. Maybe this was a mistake, maybe Bill was better off being ‘The Writer’ that he got to pine over from a distance.

“What’s shaking my second favorite William?” Richie cuts him out of his quickly spiraling thoughts, sliding into the booth across from him. 

Richie has cleaned up for tonight- but his definition of ‘clean up’ is far from what the normal person would consider. He’s wearing a silk blue button up with a black vest loosely tied in the front. It’s flattering in a weird way. Light smudges of eyeliner line his eyes behind his magnified lenses and there’s a cigarette tucked behind his ear, almost hidden in his barely tamed curls. At least Will thinks it’s a cigarette.

“It’s fine, nothing much,” he replies, hoping his dejection isn’t showing on his face.

Richie just hums, rapping his knuckles against the table. He just now notices that Richie has freshly painted his nails black. He jerks his chin towards the bottle in Will’s hands, “Didn’t take you as a fan of Bud Light.”

He sets his barely drinked beer on the table, “It’s fine, not my first choice but Bill ordered for us.” 

“Makes sense, Bill’s always been fond of his piss water,” he makes a move to stand, “I can get you another drink if you want, we don’t gotta tell Big Bill.”

Will snatches Richie’s wrist before he can fully stand up. Slowly he sits back and down and watches Will with curious eyes. Will starts back peddling, “It’s fine, really. You’re supposed to go on soon right? I’d hate for you to miss your cue because you're stuck at the bar getting me a drink.”

Richie ignores most of his weak statement, “Ya know, for a guy who’s supposed to be on a hot date, you’ve said 'fine’ three times in the last minute.” When he can’t find anything to say, Richie does so for him, “Billiam is being horribly awkward isn’t he?”

He gives, sighing, “Just a little- and I don’t understand. We were having a nice time back at The Bean, I don’t get why this time is different.”

Will is entirely unprepared for what Richie tells him next, “It’s because this is a date and Bill hasn’t been on a date in two years, not since his last, horrible, boyfriend,” He leans forward on the table and it throws Will off a little at how serious he’s being, “Look, Big Bill? He’s good at being charming and swooning with people, but dating? He’s worse at it than I am. He over-thinks it. Sure, he’s a hopeless romantic, but he struggles with new people when they aren’t so new anymore. Been burned a couple of times because of them.”

“I- I see…and I understand that. I don’t date often because new people intimate me,” Will takes another sip of his beer, feeling a little overwhelmed. He doesn’t have any exes, he’s barely gone on dates before. 

But then Richie snorts, “So you’re both bad at dating. Great.”

He frowns at him, “You have any advice then?”

Richie raps his knuckles against the table again, in a drum roll manner, “Matter of fact I do. Make him talk- and not about the boring stuff. Ask him when he had his first beer or better yet find out if he’s an actual monster fucker for me if you will? His stories are telling but I need evidence,” Will’s about to inject because he is not asking about that but Richie continues, “Fine leave the monster fucking questions for date two- but I’m serious, ask him about the fun stuff, the important stuff and show you have a genuine interest in him and he’ll be waxing poetics about ya by the end of the night.” 

This makes him feel better, gives him a look into Bill- one he wasn’t expecting, and lets him know how to get to know Bill better from his own words…it’s just there’s one anxiety of his lingering. “So it’s not me? I didn’t do anything to make him not interested in me anymore?”

Richie chuckles, “William, my William hasn’t shut up about you since he laid eyes on you. No offense but it was a little insufferable. You could probably spit in his face and he’d still be interested in you…actually, maybe he’d be more interested in you then, I don’t know what he’s into.” 

His face suddenly feels hot, “Shut up,” he mumbles, looking down.

Richie just smiles back, “So what are you going to do when Bill comes back?”

“...Ask him about his first time drinking piss water?”

“There ya go!” he shoots finger guns at him, “Now if you don’t mind, I’m going to go flirt with my date before my show.”

His what-  “Are you talking about Mike?” 

“My future one true love? Yes absolutely,” he replies without missing a beat. 

He looks back at him incredulously, “Does Mike know he’s on a date right now?”

“He will, it’s all part of my master plan. Wait ‘n see.”

Part of him thinks he could do the responsible friend thing and warn Mike of Richie’s intentions, let Mike decide from there- but Mike did dig his own grave when he decided to meddle in his love life. So instead Will says, “You said you were bad at dating too so some advice; Mike likes to play hard to get, and he’s dramatic in the way he likes to be chased.” 

Richie’s eyes twinkle, “Well Papa likes a good chase,” he winks at him as he flies out of the booth, not even giving Will enough time to internally cringe at him calling himself ‘Papa’.

He watches Richie join the others at the table in front of the stage. Richie throws a haphazard arm around Mike’s shoulders…who looks annoyed and snaps something at him that Will can’t hear from here but he doesn’t shake Richie off. 

“Everything okay over huh-here?”

Will snaps his head towards Bill, he’s standing by the edge of the table, fidgeting on his feet. There's a new bottle in his hand- this one’s label is still intact, and it’s half drunk. He must’ve been waiting for Richie to leave before heading back. 

“Yeah, Richie was just seeking my advice,” he white lies, scooting more into the booth in a way that he hopes comes off as inviting, “Stop standing and sit down with me.”

Bill smiles, sliding in, “What advice were you giving him?”

“On how to woo my Mike- speaking of which, did you know Richie was going to trick Mike into going on a date with him?"

He just shrugs his shoulders, “I didn’t but that s-sounds like Rich…did he say anything else?”

“Why? Worried he spilled some of your embarrassing childhood secrets?” Will smirks.

Bill scoffs, “He wouldn’t do that,” Will meets his gaze, eyebrow raised and Bill starts to feel not so sure, “He didn’t do that- right?”

“No he didn’t do that, I’m waiting on you to tell me those.” When Bill smiles Will takes it as a small victory. The tension between them is already lessening and he’s determined to keep it rolling and not let them fall back into awkwardness when this spell has run its course. “Though he did tell me to ask you about the first time you tried beer?”

The tips of Bill’s ears turn red as he ducks his head, “Shit you don’t wanna hear about that.”

“Oh but now I really do,” he leans closer to him. The smell of a woody cologne and lingering cigarette smoke invades his nose and he wonders if it’s possible to miss a smell after only experiencing it once. 

He can already see the bravado seep back into Bill as he gives in with a little smile, “It was freshman year and all us Losers thought it would be a cool idea to sneak into Eddie Corcoran’s seniors only party,” his voice has taken on that slow, smooth, tone again and he’s not tripping on as many words as he was, “We were successful too…until Eddie Corcoran confronted us and tried to kick us out…” Will nods for him to go on, “Well let’s just say the moment Corcoran confronted us the beer we had been stealing all night decided to vacate the premises of my stomach…onto his shoes. Got my ass beat that night.”

“And you still drink it?” he teases.

“It was my first love, what c-can I say?” Bill lays an arm across the back of the booth. It’s not on Will’s shoulders but it’s close enough, “Tell me, what was teenage Will like? Any raging parties?” 

He snorts, “The only parties I was going to as a teenager were Dnd ones.” He’s not afraid of Bill thinking of him as a nerd, he saw the Battlestar Galactica keychain on his laptop bag. It was cute.

“Like with elves and shit? Were you an elf?”

Will shakes his head, laughing, “No I wasn’t just an elf! I was also the Party’s wizard.” 

“A wizard huh?” Bill takes a slow sip of his beer, glancing towards him, “You sure put a spell on me.”

Will’s brain short circuits. Bill just stares back at him, a small blush climbing his neck. He just has to shove Bill in the side with his elbow, “That is the worst pickup line I have ever heard!” 

He gives him a mock offended look, “I was trying woo you, William!”

Will’s about to retort when a speaker comes on to announce Richie as the next comedian. Mike, Ben, Bev, and Eddie all rush to cram back into the booth with Will and Bill. Eddie snaps at Bill to scoot in more so that he can sit down. 

Bill’s thigh ends up pressed against his- in fact, his whole body would be if Will wasn’t leaning a little bit forward. There’s very little space between them and Will…he’s not mad about it. At this proximity, he feels the heat radiating from Bill, can feel the vibrations of his chest when he laughs, and honestly he just falls more into the encapsulation that is Bill.  

The arm Bill had resting on the back of the booth comes down to rest across his shoulders very lightly. Almost as if Bill is asking for permission. Will leans back, securing the arm more around his shoulders in answer. There is so much heat radiating between them he feels like he’s going to combust. He’s never cared so much about a guy liking him before and he thinks Bill does like him like that but also he always carries around a seed of doubt about anything good happening to him.

It makes it hard to focus on Richie’s act as he starts his act, clearly in his element. Will tries to pay attention, he does, but his mind is fogged by the smell of Bill’s cologne and the rumbling of his chest against his side every time he laughs at one of Richie’s jokes.

Stan, El, and Mike (Will’s Mike) opt to stay around the table near the stage. If Stan was heckling the last poor guy, he is absolutely ruthless toward Richie. Who throws it right back his way. It was more amusing than Richie’s jokes. He has a hunch that they were both showing off for Mike and El. 

Bill and his friends sitting in the booth aren’t safe from Richie’s terror either. He throws a joke out about Eddie’s mom, one only they laugh at and he pokes fun at Ben. Something about The New Kids On The Block? At this point, Will was too wrapped up in Bill to register it completely. It isn’t until Richie targets him during his act does he get Will’s full attention back.

“Now now, I’m not the only love bird on a date tonight,” he whistles while Mike makes a small protest from the table, “My good friend Big Bill is here tonight on a date. Ironically! With a guy also named William,” he pauses for a dramatic moment, “You see if I was on a date with a man named Richard it would be double the Dick but you see with my friend Bill, he’s the one getting double the Willys tonight.” 

There's a modest amount of laughter that he earns from the bar patrons. This is one of his more successful jokes of the night. Beverly is dying in their booth and Ben gives Will an apologetic look but he’s still smiling. Will wants to curl up and disappear before his face turns into a tomato. 

“F-fuck you, boy!” Bill yells but he’s barely fighting back a smug smile. He nudges Will with his hand resting on his shoulder, “Just ignore him, he’s a dickwad. We’re about to luh-leave anyway.”

A mixture of excitement and trepidation fills his stomach. On one hand, he has no idea what Bill has planned for them for the rest of the night which is exciting, and on the other, that’s exactly what worries him. Will Byers is a virgin. It’s just…never came up before. Being gay in a small town can do that.

But they just got over their awkward conversation bump, surely Bill isn’t expecting that to magically segway into them having sex? Because if so they’re just going to land right back into an awkward conversation when he has to fess up he’s a virgin and he doesn’t plan on losing it after one lukewarm date and even more lukewarm beer. 

Richie’s set comes to an end and everyone starts to part ways. Mike Hanlon, Eddie, Beverly, and Ben were going to another bar on the side of the city, and Mike Wheeler and Richie were going to tag along. Will’s Mike isn’t a bar person so he’s continuing to be surprised tonight by his friend’s decisions. El wants to go home- no surprise there, because she really isn’t a bar person and Stan insists on driving her back. Hopefully, she notices Stan’s obvious flirting on the drive.

Bill asks if he’d like to go with everyone to the next bar and it’s clear that he’s giving Will an out of being alone together. But the thing is- despite his reservations, he wants to see what Bill has planned for them. Bill doesn’t act like a guy who is going to try to pressure him into doing anything he doesn’t want to. Doesn’t seem like his style. 

He takes Bill’s hand, acting braver than he feels, “I just wanna hang out with you.”

The smile Bill gives him in response is beautiful. 

-

Bill doesn’t disclose much about where they’re going when they crawl into his silver truck. Will didn’t know he had a vehicle, he never drives to The Bean and when he asks about this, Bill just waves him off, saying that driving in New York is too stressful for his tastes. 

On the way over Will tries to get some information out of him about where they’re heading as the excitement builds. Bill appears very sure of himself that this is a place that Will is going to be very happy about. To say he is intrigued would be an understatement. 

Curiously it’s some type of office building Bill drives them up to. He jumps out of the car without a word and heads towards the doors, leaving Will no choice but to follow him. The temperature has dropped significantly and even with his large coat, he crowds close to Bill as he unlocks the glass doors. 

Bill gets it unlocked and heads inside, turning back to Will when he doesn’t follow him, “You coming?”

He nervously glances at his surroundings, reading the sign “Gray’s Design Company Coming Soon,” painted onto one of the front windows. Trespassing wasn’t something he considered he would be doing tonight. 

“Are you sure we should be here?” The last thing he wants is to be is a ‘Nervous Nellie’ as Mike has called him before but…they’re trespassing. 

Bill must somehow read his mind, dangling the key he used to get in, “It’s okay, we have per-permission.” He’s still a little nervous but he follows Bill inside. 

The inside of the building is gutted, and clearly being renovated. Plastic sheets litter the floor and hang from the ceiling and briefly, Will is reminded of that one episode of Dexter Max had forced him to watch.

Will only glances away from Bill for a second but when he looks back Bill’s gone. Okay, now he’s starting to panic. “Bill?! Where’d you go?!”

A hand on his shoulder startles him, making him yelp. Bill looks down at him with a smile full of mirth, “Keep up, I want you to s-see this.”

“You’re not taking me somewhere to kill me right?” He’s only half joking. 

Bill rolls his eyes, and takes his hand, “Come on.”

They push through two more plastic sheets and Will sees why Bill was being impatient to show him. The sight before him takes his breath away. 

It’s the first actual room they’ve walked into and it is filled to the brim with art. There are canvases in stacks leaning against the walls, sculptures on pedestals, and tables filled with sketches. The art styles are all different signifying this isn’t the collection of one person. He just has to touch. 

The first table he approaches has sketches all done in charcoal. They’re smudged from rubbing against each other but he can make out the sketches of the people. Just strangers that are going about their everyday life, probably unaware of their portrait being created. 

On the next table are unframed works of watercolor. All vivid and seeming to leap off the page. Some depict still life while some are settings. Places pulled from the artist’s mind, maybe places that they wish they could visit or just simply places that are not real but still beautiful all the same. These are his favorites. 

He swivels on his heel, a watercolor work of a river still in his hand, to look back at Bill. He’s still standing at the entrance, watching him with a small smile. It makes his whole heart flutter.

“What is this place?” he asks, gesturing to the whole room.

Bill comes to stand by him, taking the painting in Will’s hand to examine, “Ben’s boss bought this place for his architecture firm and apparently the basement was filled with this stuff. Whoever owned the building before ap-aparently was an avid art collector.”

“A ‘collector’ is putting it lightly, this is more like a hoarder’s work. This is insane,” He walks over to a sculpture of a woman’s head made from clay, “This stuff belongs in an art show or a museum! I have never seen so much art in one room before!” He pauses for a moment, “What do they plan on doing with all of this?”

“Well Ben’s boss planned on tossing it all since most of it isn’t from any famous artists,” Will’s heart sinks, “But Ben convinced him to donate it to an art school, make the business look good,” he finishes.

“Yes, good publicity in exchange for not throwing away a collection of people’s hard work,” he doesn’t mean to sound bitter but some people will just never understand art. It’s just a thing that takes up space in their new office building. 

Bill just hums, “Well I did manage to convince Ben to let you take your pick of the art here before it gets donated.” He hands Will back the painting. 

He feels as if he’s a kid in a candy store and his mom just said he could get whatever he wants. “I can take whatever I want? Are you sure?”

“One hundred percent, you have a deep appreciation for art and you’ll actually care about these pieces,” He stands in front of him and Will realizes how close they've gotten. Bill reaches out and tucks a strand of his hair behind his ear, his hand lingering, “I’m really suh-sorry about earlier by the way. You make me nervous.”

“You don’t have to apologize, I don’t date often because most people also make me nervous,” he leans into Bill’s hand, remembering what Richie had said earlier about Bill’s ex and how he has hesitations about people getting to know the real him. He's not going to be one of those people that 'burn' him.

“I’m honored to be your date tonight then,” Bill murmurs.

They’re so close their breaths are mingling and right when Bill’s eyes flutter shut and he leans down to kiss him, Will slyly ducks out from under his arm, “Come on! We got art to go through!” 

Bill sighs, amused, “Okay where do you want to start?”

For the next hour, they go through every canvas and every sketch. Will pays no attention to the sculptures as he doesn’t think he’ll have room for them in his dorm.

During this he learns that Bill used to sketch a lot when he was younger before diving into writing and like his writing, he would draw horror. Bill ends up taking home a sketch of a rib cage with flowers blooming through the ribs. He still has a passion for macabre works of art. 

Will on the other hand takes home a painting of a lonely cabin scene and two sketches, one of a beautiful man with wings and another of a bed of flowers. Plus he took the watercolor painting of the river that he first grabbed. Honestly he was holding back.

“I can’t believe you didn’t want that painting of the naked chicken,” Bill says as he loads Will's painting into the backseat of his truck.

“It was a featherless chicken, not a naked one,” he corrects, still a little disgusted by how detailed it was. He jumps into the passenger seat as Bill is getting into the driver's seat.

“That st-still counts as naked.” 

“Why do you do that? Trip on words sometimes?” He realizes how insensitive that sounds too late, “Wait! You don’t have to answer that! I’m sorry!”

“Hey, it’s okay! You’re a lot nicer about asking about it than s-some people,” Bill reaches over and takes a hold of his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze, “I used to have a horrible st-stutter and I’ve almost got it under control, it still comes out I guess.”

Will squeezes his hand back, “I think it’s kinda cute- if that’s okay to say?”

“That’s okay to say,” he raises their entwined hands and kisses the back of Will’s hand. His lips feel soft. 

He feels the need to share something intimate about himself. What did Richie say, talk about the deep stuff? Fuck it, he’s going to do that.

“I’m a virgin.” Well, that’s one way to say it, Will.

Bill’s eyebrow furrows, “I wasn’t planning on trying to get into your p-pants if that’s what-”

“No no no,” shit he made Bill get defensive, he honestly could have said that better, “I didn’t think that you were! Just you shared something personal about yourself and I wanted to do that too! Earlier Richie told me to talk about the ‘deep stuff’ with you and- God I don’t know; I feel like I just messed this all up.”

A big hand cups the side of his face, forcing him to meet Bill’s eye, “You didn’t mess anything up,” Bill soothes, “And Richie is an idiot but I’m glad he told you we should talk about the deep stuff. Eventually, we’re going to have to have a conversation about your luh-limits in the bedroom and what you’re comfortable with and you will be the one to set those,” Will positively colors at that but it takes a weight off his chest he hadn’t realized was there, “I’m happy you shared that with me, thank you for trusting me enough to tell me that.”

Will knows that when he loses his virginity, he wants to lose it to Bill but like Bill said, that’s a conversation for another time. Right now all he can focus on is, “You said ‘eventually’ implying you want to see me more?”

Bill smiles at him boyishly, “As if that was a question. I p-plan on annoying you for a long while, hope you’re okay with that.”

His entire being is beaming. The boys Will likes aren’t supposed to return his feelings- especially not boys like Bill Denrbough. “Yeah, I think I’m more than okay with that.” 

Neither of them wants to move despite how late it’s getting. Foolishly the romantic side of him is thinking about how he doesn’t want this night to end. Their hands are still linked over the middle console and Bill’s hand is still cupping his cheek, his thumb brushing against the side of his face. 

“Can I kiss you?” Bill asks softly.

In lew of words, Will just nods his head. Sure he’s been kissed before. Once in middle school by Sally Mae behind the bleachers, the kiss that solidified that he liked boys, and then once in a game of spin the bottle with Lucas. Both of them were chased and lacked any of the emotion that Bill has when he kisses him. His lips are soft.

He has to remind himself to close his eyes. Bill takes the lead and presses and disconnects their lips a couple of times, pulling back minutely to nudge his nose against his and he gets the hint, he starts to move his lips as well. He can feel Bill smiling. It’s when he’s getting the hang of this that Bill swipes his tongue against his bottom lip. It felt foreign yet good and he gasps when Bill does it again. Bill’s tongue travels into his mouth slowly, licking and mapping it out. Will lets go of his hand and grasps his shoulders, trying to ground himself. He doesn’t have much to compare this to but he thinks Bill is a very good kisser. The noises he’s making he would find a little embarrassing any other time but right now he's not in any capacity to care. 

Disappointedly, Bill breaks the kiss, resting his forehead against his, “I really like you, William Byers.”

Will blushes, “I really like you too, William Denbrough.” 

A/N: AHA okay you can tell that for some reason I really struggled to find my footing writing this and with the dialogue but,,,this is my second draft of the chapter and I'm still not happy with it and I didn't have it in my to start over.

That being said I am really happy with how the ending turned out. I love soft boys.

This is the last chapter for WillBill as in part three we will be seeing how the rest of Wheelzier and Elstan's night went...that one will definitely be at least rated M bc Wheelzier :0

There’s a coffee loft in downtown New York that has been humbly dubbed “The Bean'' by its loyal customers. The real name of the shop is printed on the window front, but the font is so faded that it’s hard to tell what it originally said. The name “The Bean” came about because, unlike the painted name of the loft, a big faded cartoon coffee bean is still visible on the window pane.

No one knows why the paint of the Bean has withstood through the years and not the paint of the name. At this point, it doesn’t matter. The Bean is cracked and dirty with age and it just fits .

The Bean is just out of the way enough to be an inconvenience to tourists but for locals, it’s a hot spot. It has a comforting atmosphere with its mismatch couches and corner tables. The furniture is a mixed drab of whatever the Owner was able to find at the thrift store. They have the same two baristas who never mess up an order and the place plays smooth jazz softly over the speakers. 

This place is perfect for an artist like Will Byers. 

Every Tuesday and Thursday afternoon he heads there after his morning class, his satchel full of sketchbooks and pens. He is a very patient man but his roommate has a way of working his nerves so it’s easier to work somewhere else. It’s like the guy has never heard of headphones- and he's always playing some garage band music.

The barista, a sweet girl named Addy, rings up his usual as he walks in the door, the ‘ding!’ of the bell behind him. The smell of cinnamon warms his nose and he already starts to relax. It’s reminiscent of home.

He pays for his hot chai tea; two dollars and fifty cents, with a small “, thank you” to Addy as he heads to his little corner. Mike may give him shit for hating the taste of coffee and still hanging out at the coffee loft, but Mike has never tried The Bean’s chai tea. 

There’s a corner of the loft that has this old loveseat couch and a coffee table in front of it. When Will first started coming here he would sit on the floor with his back against the couch and do his work on the table. When the Owner saw this, Mr. Brandis, he insisted on getting Will an easel for him to work on instead. 

Will tried to tell the older man that it was too much but Mr. Brandis had money to blow so he bought Will one anyways. Mr. Brandis hasn’t been in the shop much anymore and Addy tells him it’s because his arthritis is getting worse in his old age. A shame, Will genuinely enjoyed Mr. Brandis’s presence.

The easel is already set up for him and he pulls his biggest sketchbook out and sets it on it. With the easel, he does get to sit on the couch now which is nice. With his drink warming his hands, he scrutinizes his work. It’s his art midterm, the first one of his freshman year, and he’s a little nervous. 

Going to school for art is such a cliche. The eye rolls and the ‘oh that’s…nice’ he’s had to hear from high school teachers and other grown-ups. He knows. It’s just that he couldn’t bring himself to go to school for something he didn’t care about. That said, he’d rather not fall into the “starving artist stereotype”. If he can create a good-, no; a great piece for his midterm, it feels like this could be worth it. 

A silly notion, he knows. 

Right now he’s just in the sketching phases. The prompt for the midterm is “Character of light.” He doesn’t have a clue how his project is going to come out. Character of light?- Maybe he should paint his mom. 

There’s a "ding!" of the door and Will looks up, is it really that time already?

There’s another reason Will frequents The Bean. A guy that looks around his age, who shows up every day at noon, orders a different drink every time and sits in the same spot across the shop. Will studies him as he chats with Addy, who laughs at something he said. He’s getting some iced drink despite the dropping temperature outside.

When he turns away from the counter with his drink their eyes lock. The guy gives him a polite smile and Will smiles back; before going to his booth. The same routine every Tuesday and Thursday.

Will has affectionately dubbed this stranger “the Writer”. At his booth, he pulls out his laptop and will type away at something. Will has wondered many times what exactly he’s writing. It’s a fiction story, he thinks, because the Writer always has notebooks on the table too. Like he’s keeping track of details in a story. On second thought that could work for writing non-fiction as well but this guy doesn’t look like a boring non-fiction writer. He can’t explain it, he just knows. 

Dressed in flannel (always flannel) with his ripped jeans and his auburn hair tucked up underneath a beanie, the occasional strands escaping. He looks so mundane but to the careful eye, you can tell he looks like someone who has something to say. Will hopes he says it. Hopes he gets to hear it.

That would mean talking to him and that’s not something he’ll do. Will Byers doesn’t talk to strangers. People he doesn’t even know the name of. No no no, he’s perfectly content secretly pining over the Writer from his little corner.

Will sighs and gets to work on his midterm as the Writer boots up his laptop. Once the screen is on and he’s clacking away, the Writer won’t look up for anything. Zeroed in on his work, like Will needs to be. He can’t help it! He’s an artist, he likes pretty things! And the Writer is very pretty.

For the next two hours Will sketches and erases portraits of his mom. Would it be too cheesy to choose his mom for this prompt? He could do his sister El, but that may be just as cheesy. At the end of it, all he’s accomplished is to make himself frustrated. It’s time to go home. He glances at the Writer one last time as he always leaves before him.

He picks up his things and politely says goodbye to Addy as he throws his drink away. Maybe he’ll get lucky and his roommate will have gone out for the night. 

The New York air is cold on the tip of his nose. Mid-October was bringing in that cold air with a vengence. 

“Hey! Wait up!”

Thinking of October he has no idea who he’s going for Halloween. Does the Party want to do a group costume or have they outgrown that? He doesn’t think- A hand grabs his shoulder and Will jerks back. Is this his first mugging? 

No, it’s not a mugging because when he turns around it’s the Writer standing there. His cheeks are red and he’s panting and he’s holding Will’s dorm pass.

“You dropped this back there, I figured you weren’t getting home without it.” The man explains.

“I- thank you.” After months they’ve never said a word to each other, just shared little smiles as the writer got his coffee. 

“Just being a good citizen,” he laughs. There’s something to his voice. It’s slow and he can’t tell if it’s just because this guy has an accent or what. Before handing the pass back to Will he looks at it, nodding appreciatively, “NYU, that’s a good school.” 

He hands the pass back to him, their fingertips just briefly brush, “It is, thanks," he dismisses. 

The Writer smiles at him, “Well ss-see you Thursday!” and heads back the way he came, back towards The Bean. 

Will stands there for a minute with a blush on his cheeks and stunned at his own stupidity. “It is”? He couldn’t have thought to ask the guy if he went to school there too? Start a conversation? He now knows the guy knows his schedule too but that could mean anything. God, he feels like an idiot.

-

Bill Denbrough is an idiot. 

He sits there, staring at his laptop screen and chewing at his fingernails. Why did he grab Art guy? Cute Art guy to be exact. He looked like he scared the guy half to death.

After months of his romantic pinning, he couldn’t stop himself from taking the chance. When he saw Art guy’s dorm pass fall out of his back pocket as he was leaving it was like fate. The universe was saying, “Now’s your chance Denbrough,” and he fucking blew it! Very Bill of him as Richie would say.

And why did he come off as a stalker?! “NYU, that’s a nice school”?! He dropped out of that school! That’s not even the worst part, the pass was in his hand and he didn’t check the name. Now the guy is stuck being dubbed ‘Art guy’. Dammit, Denbrough! The guy probably thinks he’s a creep. 

Groaning, he slams his laptop shut. The words aren’t coming to him as steadily as they usually are. Maybe he calls it an early night and sees if Richie is down to grab a drink. A real drink, not whatever surgery crap Addy concocted today. Plus Richie is always down to drink, even on weekdays. Perks of being the two college dropouts of the Losers club.

“Bye Addy!” he yells over her shoulder. The poor girl is sweeping, getting an early start on closing since she has to do it all alone. The other barista (Diana? He thinks that’s her name.) hides in the back, playing on her phone. They really should hire someone else.

-

Thursday rolls around and Will is a bundle of nerves. He keeps going back and forth on whether or not he should go. But it would be weird to break his routine suddenly. Oh but his nerves! He knows he came off so cold the Writer! Should he apologize or would that be weird?

He’s still deciding when Mike texts him that he’s joining Will at The Bean. A blessing and a curse. If he chooses not to go now he’d have to explain why to Mike and he would just ask too many questions. His friends are aware of his routines, and Mike and El have joined him at the coffee loft a couple of times. El when she really needs to focus on her school work and Mike when he just needs to relax for a little.

Mike is already sitting in his spot when he arrives. Chai tea on the table alongside Mike’s usual order of americano and a blueberry muffin. Will takes his seat next to Mike. He doesn’t feel like drawing today, his legs are too jumpy. 

Mike being Mike immediately notices, “What’s got you in a bunch?”

“Nothing.”

In lew of arguing Mike hands him his chai tea. He regrets it, the cup shakes in his hand. Mike looks at him with a, “You gonna tell me now?” expression.

Will sips his tea in spite, “Seriously, I’m fine.”

Mike starts in on him, “And I’m straight. Was it class? Was professor Harlen a dick to you again? Or was it your roommate? I swear if he-”

“I’m fine!” he lowers his voice as he gets a grumpy look from an old lady in an armchair, “I’m sorry Miss Baker,” he whispers to her. She glares at him for a moment longer before returning to her Cosmo magazine. Mike looks at him expectantly. He sighs, “It’s this guy.”

“It’s this guy?” Mike repeats back to him, “What guy? Did he do something to you or something?”

For someone so smart, Mike can be a bit dense at times. “No he didn’t do anything to me!” he hurriedly whispers, “I just- I just happen to think he’s cute.”

This piques Mike’s interest. For a reason too. Will doesn’t often get ‘crushes’. He feels like such a schoolgirl. “And what happened with this cute guy?” Mike asks.

So, against his better judgment he tells Mike about the incident on Tuesday…and about how he’s been harboring a crush on this guy for months. He can’t look at Mike’s smug face. 

“Sooo that’s why you love this place,” the bastard teases.

“I love this place because Addy makes a good chai tea,” he says, getting defensive. There’s a telltale feeling of a stupid blush warming his cheeks.

Mike hums, “So when does Lover boy get here? You said he’s a regular here as you?”

Looking at his booth he realizes what time it is, “He’s um, he’s actually supposed to be here right now.” 

He must sense the apprehension in Will’s voice, “I’m sure he’s just running late, that’s all,” Mike tries to reassure.

But Will isn’t listening, he’s thinking about how he came off cold to the guy and now he’s ruined everything. The Writer is probably never going to come here again and that means he’s never going to get to see him again and he never even got to learn his name. God, he’s so stu- Oh wait. 

As Will’s eyes were scanning the room they landed on the outside window where the Writer is standing outside next to someone. He has his bag with him so it appears he’s coming in, just chatting to someone right now.

The tension leaves his shoulders and he nods his head towards the window, “Nevermind he’s outside talking to that guy. He’s the one in the gray flannel.”

“The one he’s smoking a cigarette with?” Mike asks, wrinkling his nose.

“Mmm yeah I guess.” Honestly, he’s only ever seen the Writer smoke a couple of times before and it’s always with this same guy before he comes inside sometimes. At first, he feared the other guy was the Writer's boyfriend but the pair have only ever playfully shoved each other when one of them had, apparently, said something stupid. They remind him of Lucas and Dustin. 

And there’s the fact that few and far in between, a couple of the Writer's friends have joined him in The Bean. None of them acts less platonic than the other.

The Writer finishes his cigarette before snubbing it out and tossing it. The other guy, his friend, ruffles the Writer’s hair before walking down the street. 

Will finds himself holding his breath as he pulls the door open. 

“At least he’s the cute one, would have seriously judged you if it was the other guy. The one with the curls looks like he needs a bath,” Mike says with a grimace, unaware of Will’s state.

He agrees noncommittally, trying not to stare but also can’t look away as the Writer places his order. The Writer got something hot today and when he turns around, as always, he makes eye contact with Will. 

Instead of rolling his eyes or scowling, or any of Will’s worst fears, the writer smiles and waves. Somehow Will manages to give a small wave back. The Writer, seeming pleased, grins one last time before heading to his booth.

Well…that was new.

“Oh ho ho,” Mike chuckles, “Looks like you didn’t come off too cold to him.”

“Shut up,” he scolds but he’s smiling. 

Mike taps his finger to his chin, “I think that you should go talk to him.”

It’s almost comical how quickly Will snaps his head towards Mike, stuttering, “Wh-what? It was just a wave, not an invitation to go bother him!” he whispers yells. He is not risking the Writer overhearing him.

“But it could be an invitation to go bother him, you don’t know,” Will glowers at him and Mike holds his hands up in defense, “I’m just saying! If you want to sit over here and continue to pine for even more months like a sad Disney Channel movie heroine, that’s your deal. You could at least ask his name,” Mike smiles mischievously, “Or I could go ask for his name.”

Will stands up, “Okay we’re leaving.”

“What why?”

“Because I don’t trust you. Come on, get up.”

Hopefully, it wasn’t as embarrassing as it was in his head, leading out Mike who was fighting a fit of giggles. Good to know his love life is funny. 

-

“You know you’re overthinking this right?”

Bill resists rolling his eyes at Stan, yes he knows this. He’s Bill, he overthinks everything, it’s a part of his personality at this point. “Doesn’t matter,” he disregards, “I’ve been s-smiled zoned.”

Stan does roll his eyes at him, “That’s not a thing, stop being overdramatic."

He huffs at his friend. Stan uses a coffee stirrer to push back his cuticles as he sits across from Bill at his booth. He doesn’t often accompany Bill to The Bean but today is a special occasion. Richie got a job here and today was his first day. 

A few weeks ago Mr. Brandis finally fired that lazy barista. Addy basically runs the shop anyway so it didn’t affect her but Mr. Brandis still insisted on filling the position. 

So Bill got Richie the job. He’s always complaining about having no money, free open mics don’t exactly pay, so now he has a day job. Bill’s happy for him but it is oh so infuriating. His friends are the worst. That’s it. 

Richie has been working all day so he was there when Addy took Art guy’s order, he knows his name and he won’t tell Bill. He texted Richie as he was walking here with Stan and Richie just sent him the middle finger again emoji. Then he asked again when he placed his order and the jerk just smiled smugly, miming zipping his lips. 

But he still smiled at Art guy when he turned around- and waved. Waving is part of their new routine now. He was so scared he fucked it up when he chased him down the street to return his pass that he decided to take a chance the next time he saw him. If Art guy waved back then hope wasn’t lost. Bill considers himself lucky that he did.

Now a whole month later, they have come to an impasse. The only new development was the wave. He still sits at his booth and pines over Art guy, stealing glances at him when he’s not looking. At his point, he knows he’s getting on his friend’s nerves, particularly Stan and Richie’s. 

“I don’t even know if he’s gay Stan,” he almost whines.

Stan takes a glance towards Art guy and looks at Bill with a raised eyebrow, “Are you serious right now?”

“What? S-serious about what?”

“Bill Denbrough you’re a dumbass,” he sighs, “That guy couldn’t scream more gay if he had a shirt on saying it.”

He scrunches his nose, “I don’t understand, how can you tell?”

“Oh I don’t know, maybe because he dresses way too nice for a straight guy,” Stan states matter of factly. 

“Ben is st-straight and he dresses nicely.”

Stan looks almost pained, “Ben isn’t straight Bill.”

“Wh-what?! Since when?!” 

He rolls his eyes again and is chastising him for his lack of gaydar when the door chimes and stops mid-rant. Stan never stops mid-rant so he’s immediately turning around to see who came in.

Oh, it’s just her. The girl with curly brown hair who’s always slightly smiling is one of Art guy’s friends. 

But she’s not just a girl to Stan apparently. Bill watches his eyes as his eyes watch her, following her from where she goes to place her order and then to sit next to Art guy. Stan’s mouth is still hanging open from where he was speaking mid-sentence. 

He doesn’t bother to hide his snigger when Stan’s attention finally returns to him. Stan glares at him but asks anyways, “Does she often come here with him?”

Bill finds a sudden interest in his nails, feeling completely smug about the whole thing. Stan and Richie have been giving him shit about not talking to Art guy and here Stan is gaping at one of his friends. “Hmmm, I don’t know, why? You feeling smuh-smitten suddenly?” He’s not looking up from his nails as he says it, going for the full effect of bastard.

Stan throws his coffee stirrer at him, “I’m definitely not telling you Art guy's name now!” he hisses. 

Bill squawks, “How do you know his name?!”

“Because Richie texted me it on the way here!”

“I have the worst friends,” he pouts, sliding down into the booth.

-

Mike is surprised and annoyed to see Will’s Lover boy’s friend behind the counter the next time he visits The Bean. Will is still on his way and Mike tends to get here before him anyways when he joins him.

Before he approaches the counter he knows this guy is going to get on his nerves. He just looks dirty! His curls need a brush and his black fingernail polish is chipped to hell. To make it worse he can see the horrendous orange shirt behind his black apron. Who let him go out like this?! Why is it weirdly attractive?!

The guy- ‘Richie’ as it says in a messy scribble on his name tag greets him with an all too big smile, “Hey good lookin' what can I get brewin' for ya?” He sings songs. 

He resists glaring; just barely, and orders, “I’ll have an americano and a blueberry muffin. Oh and a hot chai tea.”

“Two drinks?” Richie asks as he rings him up, “What? You got a date coming? And your total is eight dollars and ninety five cents.”

“I’m just ordering for my friend that’s joining me- not that it’s any of your business.” He tosses a ten-dollar bill towards the barista who annoyingly catches it.

He hums, “No date, is it bold of me to assume you’re single then?”

“Just get me my coffee,” he bites out a “please,” so that he doesn’t come off as too rude. 

Richie chuckles and grabs two cups and a pen, “Before I do that I need to get your name pretty boy.”

He positively does not blush at that, “It’s Mike.”

“And the other name?” he asks him, scribbling Mike’s name on the cup and picking up the other one, “The name of your supposed friend?”

“It’s Will.” 

That makes Richie stop mid-writing and look up at him with an eyebrow raised, “Will? As the one who comes in every Tuesday and Thursday?” 

“Yeah that’s him, he has a weird obsession with this place,” Mike tells him, confusion lacing his tone. 

“Does his obsession with this place have anything to do with the hopeless writer that sits right at the booth over there?”

The pieces are starting to fall into place as he catches on, “I do believe it does,” a smirk is tugging at his lips. 

Richie leans over the counter, matching him with his own Cheshire grin, “Tell me, Micheal, are you also sick of them and their dramatic pining?”

“You have no idea.” He loves Will, really, but ever since Will told him about his crush it’s all he wants to talk about. Mike can recall the different colors of plaid the Writer has worn the last two Tuesdays and Thursdays because Will has insisted on telling him. 

“Well well I think it’s time I execute my plan 'The Williams’,” he sees Mike looking at him questioningly and clarifies, “Oh my friend’s name is Bill, they’re both named William so I guess it’s good they go by different nicknames because otherwise, that shit would be confusing.” 

“Hmph look at that,” he muses. 

Richie challenges him, “So you ready to hear my plan?” 

He thinks about it for a minute. Will hates it when his friends get involved in his love life so does he really want to deal with the inevitable grouchy Will over this? On the other hand, can he stand to hear about how the sun filtered in on The Writ- Bill’s hair one more time? With that in mind, he nods. 

Richie shoots him a wink, “Great, knew you wouldn’t let me down,” he calls over his shoulder to the other barista who was stocking syrups, “Hey Addy would you mind coming over here for a sec? I got something to ask.”

-

Will doesn’t notice anything off when he enters The Bean. Mike is sitting over on his loveseat couch, their drinks sitting on the table and his muffin half eaten on the plate. 

He also doesn’t notice Mike’s lack of overflowing conversation as he watches for the Writer, no interest in working on his project for the new term. He got an A on his midterm so that’s subsided his worries about his career choice for a while. He painted his mom, Hop, Jonathan, and El. His family- his characters of light. His work was so good that his professor didn’t care that he chose multiple subjects. 

Between watching the clock and humming an agreeing noise whenever it sounds like Mike has asked him a question, time moves quickly. 

The Writer comes in right on time and heads to the counter. His friend, the one he occasionally shares a cigarette with, has started working here so it’s been fun to watch their interactions. His friend’s name is Richie. Will likes him, he’s only been here for about a week but he’s always super nice to him. Sometimes Will wishes he had the courage to ask him about the Writer but that would be too obvious. 

Will watches as the Writer and Richie exchange words, the Writer flips him off and Richie makes kissy faces at him. He wonders what on Earth they’re talking about. The Writer gets his drink, a warm one today, and on cue turns around to smile and wave at him. As always Will waves back. 

Something Will does notice is Mike’s lack of snark over it. He eyes his friend, “What? No teasing today?”

Mike gives him an unimpressed look, “I don’t know what to tell you, William, the world doesn’t revolve around you.” 

Will rolls his eyes, “Whatever- and don’t call me William. It’s weird.”

They make ideal chit-chat, Mike finishing off his muffin and Will drinking his chai. Lucas’s birthday is coming up so they discuss what to get him. The man who notoriously just goes out and buys the things he wants himself. Meanwhile the Writer is pretty invested in the story he’s writing so Will risks a couple more glances than usual.

The sound of Addy's voice interrupts his and Mike's conversation. “Special order for William from Mr. Brandis!” she calls out, putting two drinks on the counter. 

He just stares up at the counter, confused. Mike nudges him, “I think she’s talking to you.”

Since when does Addy call him William and why even would Mr. Brandis order him a drink? He’s not even in today! ….He thinks. 

Hesitantly he stands and walks towards the counter. Addy is taking an order for another customer and Richie has magically disappeared. She gives him a quick smile as he approaches. 

The two paper cups are empty when he picks them up; there are no drinks. What is going on here? One of the cups says ‘Will’ and the other is labeled ‘Bill’. 

“What the fuck R-Rich,” Comes from behind him, making him jump.

It’s the Writer and he turns around and sees that he looks annoyed. He’s still confused as to what is going on and is starting to worry that he somehow did something wrong. 

The Writer quickly drops his look of annoyance though, trying to smile instead but it’s tense, “I’m ss-sorry. I think my friend is playing a prank.”

Will looks down at the cup named ‘Bill’ and holds it out to him, “Is this you?”

He takes it and observes it, “Yeah I’m Bill- sadly,” he looks at the other cup in his hands, “What does yours s-say?”

Will tries not to snicker but it’s kinda funny, the guy he’s been pining over has his name, “It says Will, short for William.”

It seems like it finally dawns on Bill, “Oh shit we have the same name!” he says, a little too excited. It makes Will squirm, and his cheeks hurt from trying not to smile too big but he's just as nervous. Scared he’ll say the wrong thing and lose this chance. 

Bill steps closer to him and he can smell his woodsy cologne and the lingering smell of cigarette smoke. For some reason he completely expected the Writer, Bill, to smell like this. He talks again in that slow voice of his, “Do you want to come sit down with me? Can’t let a special order from Mr. Brandis go to waste.” His words are smooth but his smile is boyish and cheeky and it is utterly charming. 

But then Will remembers Mike and in a panic looks over towards him...only to see that Mike is no longer there. He’s standing outside The Bean, looking in through the window and giving him a thumbs up before proceeding to fake gag. Very Mike of him. 

So Will turns to Bill and nods, “I’ll sit with you only if you tell me about that story of yours I’ve seen you writing.”

Bill’s eyes light up, “Deal but only if you let me ss-see some of your artwork,” he goads. 

That sounds more than fair to him. 

A/N: AAAAAA I know it seems like it ends abruptly but that's what chapter two is for ;)

el smiles to herself. it was nice of the previous professor to leave an apology note, and she found it especially endearing given the boards had been immaculately clean coming into all of her previous classes

one day she finds a folder full of lesson plans (and more equations) left on the desk. the syllabus claims to have been constructed by a Professor Stanley Uris

she keeps it in a safe place and makes a mental note to look up where his office is after class so she can drop it off for him

however, as it turns out, there’s no need, bc as soon as her class lets out a man about her age glides into the room

a frazzled man in a suit jacket with neat, dark brown curls and the greenest eyes el has ever seen... lips so deep a pink they’re nearly red... and a jawline so strong-

“Hello, I’m stan uris, I teach in this room the period before you”

right. el snaps out of her trance

“I think I may have left my lesson plans behind”

“oh, yeah! I’ve got them right here” she retrieves them from her bag and hands them to him as the last of her students trickle out the door. “I was gonna drop them off at your office. I’m sorry, I should’ve emailed you at the start of class, saved you the trip.”

“No, i wouldn’t wanna make you go to the trouble” stan smiles. “Thank you though, Professor...?”

“Professor Ives, but just El is fine”

“Well, thank you, El. Have a nice day”

“Yeah, you too!”

Els still watching him leave when she realizes there’s a student waiting to speak to her - a student who fails miserably at hiding her knowing grin

El blushes. But she soldiers on.

A week later, stans class goes a few minutes over - lots of questions were asked and answered, but there was still material they had to cover. It happens rarely to stan, but he’s only human

El walks in while he’s still gathering his things, weaving through the students rushing out the door

“You’re making these people sit through math lessons five minutes longer than thy need to?” she asks playfully. “that’s just cruel.”

stan looks a bit harried, but he smiles when he sees her. el thinks it’s a good look on him; his eyes are wide and shiny, and a single perfect curl hangs in his face

“not a math fan?” he grins as he fixes his hair

“can’t say I am, but I admire anyone who can understand it, let alone teach it”

stan blushes, which el also thinks is a good look on him. “it’s really not that impressive if you’re inclined toward it.” he then looks up and notices the boards, as if it snuck up on him

“I’ll handle the boards” el offers, her tone casual yet insistent

“are you sure? I feel awful leaving it for you, but I’m meeting a student-”

“go” el giggles. “I like getting rid of math”

stan gives her a grateful smile and slings his bag over his shoulder. “well, I won’t keep you from your fun then” they share a quiet laugh, and as he heads out he throws a “thank you again!” over his shoulder

els students help her erase the boards

the next time el gets to class she finds a note written on the (clean) chalkboard in neat script: “have a good class, Professor Ives”

it’s small, just in the corner of the board, but it makes her smile, makes her heart flutter. her heart sinks a bit when she has to erase it

the class after that she arrives to find stan still there

all of his students are gone and his bag is packed, and el thinks he’s pretending to check his emails. it’s cute.

“oh, sorry professor ives, I didn’t notice the time”

el smirks to herself. “it’s el” she reminds him “and I don’t mind. feel free to stick around, we’re covering feminist economics today”

“I’m afraid I’ve got to get to my office hours, but I genuinely would love to hear all about it some other time if you’re offering”

el raises her eyebrows and smiles. “some other time?”

stan gives her a charming grin, and oh man, yeah, she could happily fall for that

“do you like Italian food?”

they’re officially together after two dates

stan always leaves sweet notes in her desk, and sometimes little treats as well, like brownies or fancy fountain pens

they mostly keep their relationship to their personal lives outside of work, but if they hook up in their offices every now and then, well, the administration doesn’t need to know

they find that, outside of their professional fields, they have very similar tastes. in humor, food, music, drinks, hobbies

they’re super compatible and adorably nerdy together

and even if el will never understand math, she loves to hear stan talk about it

she also really appreciates how stan actually thoroughly listens to her talk about her field and conferences she attends, even if the theory bit loses him now and then

they’re both incredibly smart and impressive and supportive and in love!!